For 39 years, I built a life on things I felt were certain and immovable: ideas about work, love, and faith.
In 2009, I was fresh out of college, working at an ad agency, when the financial crisis laid me off along with 85% of the company. I went all in with photography since then and haven’t looked back.
I grew up in a conservative reformed faith, and was deeply invested in serving at the church and the community there. I met someone at that church and we got married in 2014. And it was all working until it wasn’t.
In March 2020 at the start of the pandemic, my photography business disappeared. The following year, I was deep into questioning my faith and left the church I was at for close to a decade. Then a few years after my marriage ended, and I was left with nothing to hold or cover me.
I was left alone, in front of God, surrounded by the rubble of my life.
Did I do something wrong?
Am I being punished?
What do I do now?
Since then it’s been a journey of rebuilding my relationship to myself and God. People sometimes call seasons like that a gift. I don’t know if I can say fully for myself, but I do know that even though God didn’t spare me from anything, He sustained me through everything.
He held me closer than I was holding myself. And I was able to let go of my own machinations and allow my body and Spirit to be open with what was happening, that’s when the real return started to unfold.
I’m still on this journey, and by no means have I figured anything out. But my work now embodies what Henri Nouwen asks, “The main question is not ‘How can we hide our wounds?’ but ‘How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?’”
